


Five Stories Over Four Years - The Jam Instances

by aforgetfulgirl, hangonsilvergirl



Series: The Order of Weed [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, MWPP Era, Marauders, Swearing, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aforgetfulgirl/pseuds/aforgetfulgirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangonsilvergirl/pseuds/hangonsilvergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Remus, of course, said none of that. Instead, he commented, "Well, at least Sirius doesn't put jam in your trousers."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Peter quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sure I d-don't want to know."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September 9th, 2002

It was only the first weekend of school and Remus already had friends. He was amazed. They'd taken him out into Salcombe and been generally loud and obnoxious all day, and even if they were the type of boys Remus usually shushed in the library, they'd made him laugh about a hundred times and he didn't remember ever being so happy. He'd never had friends before, let alone friends like this. The kind of friends people envied. Not that Remus was concerned with things like envy or anything, but it was _true_.

They were quite spectacular.

He couldn't help but think about exactly how spectacular they were when he got up Sunday morning. Sliding into his trousers, Remus decided to have a shower after breakfast because he was hungry now, and there were no classes to rush off to on Sundays.

As he did his slacks up, however, he felt something slightly damp. Confused, he stuck his hand into his pocket and froze. It was slimy. And sticky. Cautiously pulling his hand out, he held it up for inspection.

"Preserves? What on Earth?" Remus couldn't help but exclaim, rubbing his sticky fingers together with a disgusted scowl on his face.

"Huhnn? Wha?" came a sleepy, startled reply from the other bed.

"Sorry. Go back to sleep, Peter," Remus said, and grabbed a different pair of trousers before making his way to the floor washroom to change, wash his hands, and rinse the jam out of his pockets.

"Abast ye scurvy be-spectacled serpent!" Sirius exclaimed with a relish, bouncing about the bathroom towels on the balls of his feet, naked and brandishing the towel that should've been around his waist at James.

"Good mor- Oh dear Lord," Remus said, his greeting quickly cut short as he took in the current state of things. Politely averting his eyes, Remus continued towards a bathroom stall with only the slightest hesitation. "Um. Good morning."

"Snap!" James called as he whipped his towel, making it crack loudly against Sirius' rear end. "I am the Towel Snap King! And good _morning_ , Remus old chap. Want to join in on the fun?"

"Towel Snap _Peasant_!" Sirius declared with much flourish, twisting his towel tightly and grinning widely before whipping it hard at James' left arse cheek. The sound reverberated around the room and Sirius knew that _that_ smack would leave a mark. "Aha! You have been duped, oh poorly named Towel Snap King!"

James howled for a minute, and hopped around on, clutching his arse. "Ow, ow, you bloody buggering _bastard_!"

Then, without a moment's notice, he launched himself at Sirius and snapped him hard right in the side of the rib cage. The sound of it wasn't quite as loud as Sirius' towel snap, but it was a good hit and would surely leave a nice red mark.

"Ha! So there!" James crowed.

Remus interpreted their momentary distraction as the window of opportunity it was, and dashed past them into the stall to change, coming back out with jammy trousers in hand and heading for the sink.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Dashes about like he's on crack, that one," he said. Then, after a quiet moment (and with the slightest hint of amusement), "Remus? Why'd you change your trousers?"

"Um. Well," Remus said. He hadn't expected the rather sudden flush of shame, but he supposed he hadn't really realized until now that someone had to be responsible for his dirtied slacks. He should be used to behaviour like that from his peers by now, but it never made it any less embarrassing, really. "Someone put preserves in my trouser pockets. I'm going to wash them."

Sirius snorted. "That's interesting. What do you suppose that means, Jamie?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure," James said, grinning widely and rolling his eyes. "Perhaps that one Mr. Sirius Black has taken a liking to you, Remus? He used to say he cared with pockets of jammy dodgers, but he got lazy and just goes with the strawberry spread now."

"I... what? It was you two?" Remus asked, confused.

"Jam in your trousers is a great honour, Remus Lupin. You should be proud, and wear your jammy trousers all day. Had I the ability to give you jammy dodgers, I would, but jam on its own makes for far more interesting dinner conversation, wouldn't you say?" Sirius was smiling widely and honestly, for in truth the jam was indeed a peace offering (and showing of affection, meaning he did _indeed_ like Remus; the little bookworm would be a great asset. Plus, he was interesting), and while it might seem stupid, it really meant something to him.

"So putting jam in my trousers is a... _good_ thing?" Remus pressed, still confused.

James snickered and decided--based largely on the fact that he was still naked and it was getting a bit draughty--to go collect his clothes and get dressed.

Sirius looked a little crestfallen. "Of course it is," he said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I... because it's jam. In my trousers," Remus said, and frowned. Sirius looked upset and he didn't quite understand why. Was he really expected to be happy about having to wash his trousers three days before they're due to be washed? "I mean, well. In that case, thank you, I suppose."

"You're welcome!" Sirius answered excitedly, and then wrapped his towel back around his waist. "Keep doing what you're doing, and you and jam will become great friends!"

"Oh. Okay," Remus said, and smiled a little as he began to wash the jam out of his trousers. Just until it wasn't sticky, though. He didn't try too hard to get the stains out.


	2. April 18th, 2003

It had been two days since Remus' little collapsing thing on the way to town, and Sirius felt on edge. He was watching Remus closer, and more anxiously, and was worried about him _all the time_. It was natural to worry about your friends, of course, James had said, but he had also said that Sirius was taking it a little overboard, and should "Calm the fuck down, Remus'll be fine."

Still, sitting next to him at breakfast, watching Remus eat his porridge, Sirius was uncomfortably aware of how worried he was about Remus' welfare. James was shooting him _Sirius, You're Ridiculous_ looks across the table, but it wasn't making Sirius feel any better. He had to show Remus that he cared. That he was watching out for him. He put his head on his hand and leaned his elbow on the table, searching for some sort of non-shirt-lifting answer.

And there it was. Jam.

Carefully and quietly, he lifted his spoon and filled it with as much jam as possible. When Remus' head was turned the other way, answering a question Peter had asked, Sirius unceremoniously shoved the spoon into Remus' pocket.

Remus paused mid-sentence and turned to look at Sirius, then down at his pocket. Sirius still had his hand wrapped around the handle of the spoon in Remus' pocket. There were a few suspicious looking dribbles of jam on the table marking a line from the jam jar across the breakfast table, on the bench, and stopping just before Remus' trouser pocket.

"Sirius?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows and scrunching them together with confusion.

Sirius withdrew the spoon. "Jam?" he offered, helplessly.

"You just... you put jam in my trouser pocket," Remus said. And then, frowning a little, he added, "Again. Why?"

"I. Um," Sirius started a little awkwardly, dropping the spoon on the table and running a hand through his hair. "It's. Um. In case, you know? You feel. Somehow. And you. You. You need something, and, er. Now you can just lick your fingers, and... I. Well. All better?"

There was the sudden sound of James bursting out into laughter, but it melted into the background noise.

"Okay. Could you... try that again? But finish your sentences this time so I can understand what you're saying," Remus suggested, trying to sound polite though he was a little agitated. Now he'd probably be late for maths.

Sirius felt his face grow hot and he grumbled before he replied. "I was thinking that, you know. If you feel faint in class or something, you'd have something there to tide you over until you could get something proper for eats."

The agitation promptly melted away and Remus smiled softly, deciding not to mention that he usually had granola bars and juice boxes in his school bag all the time. He tentatively touched Sirius' hand and said softly, "Thanks." After pausing thoughtfully, he smiled and added, "But I'm a little appalled that you think I could sit in class and eat jam out of my own pocket. Just what sort of boy do you think I am, Sirius?"

Sirius looked a little incredulous for a moment, and then realized he was just a bit more than a bit of an idiot. "A boy who likes... jam?"


	3. April 18th, 2004

Remus was minding his own business. Remus always minded his own business. Especially when in the hallway, because never mind that the hallway was public property, all he had to do was keep his eyes and ears open to know that a lot of people somehow expected privacy. So Remus minded his own business, as usual and as mentioned, and pretended to be looking through his book bag for something, even if his arms were so sore from pulling Sirius up on that beam that the bag felt about twelve times heavier than usual.

Jogging down the hallway and in search of Remus, Sirius was actually about to give up. He felt as though he'd likely gone through every single one that East Portlemouth had, and then. Finally. There the sodding little bugger was.

Remus had saved his life yesterday. If it hadn't been for Remus, Sirius'd be pavement putty.

"Hey, Remus!" he called out breathlessly. "Wait up!"

Turning slightly to face the noise, Remus automatically donned a relieved smile. Last night had been a close call. Remus thought it would be a long, long time before he'd stop being glad Sirius was alive and well every time he saw him.

"Hi," Remus greeted him simply as he approached.

Sirius didn't actually stop. In fact, he was still jogging on spot when he grabbed the back of Remus' trousers, and pulled them out. He was ready to sprint as he opened his hand and let the sticky, _huge_ handful of preserves drop into the opening. Before Remus could properly react, he was off, licking his fingers.

That is, until he crashed into McGonagall.

"Oh dear," Remus mumbled, and narrowed his eyes. Though he was familiar with Sirius' odd habit of putting jam in his pockets, he certainly did not like this new development of having it _down_ his trousers. However, when Sirius ran into Professor McGonagall, Remus didn't even consciously recognize a shift in his attitude before he just knew that he'd be on Sirius' side here. There was just something about Sirius and jam. Remus didn't quite understand it, but it had to mean _something_.

"Sirius Black!" Minerva McGonagall snapped as the boy ran into her. She'd seen the whole thing, of course, as sharp eyes are wont to do, and putting _preserves_ down a fellow classmate's trousers was most certainly not acceptable behaviour. Particularly when she noticed that Sirius was pulling a guilty, jam-covered hand off the front of her blazer. Her _tartan_ blazer. "What do you think you're doing?!?" she demanded.

He'd attempt to be suave. He'd always attempt it. "Showing my deepest affections for you of course, m'lady," he said. "As for my hand, I've a deplorable affinity for jam, I'm afraid. The nanny fed it to me as an infant and I've been disgustingly addicted since. They should invent 12 step programs for these sorts of situations."

Minerva took a deep breath. "And of Mr. Lupin's trousers, Mr. Black?"

"I. Er. Wanted to see what sort of underpants he was wearing? I gave him footie ones for Christmas."

Remus moved quickly--if a little squishily--to Sirius' side and pinched his friend's arm. He was only going to make it worse by being cheeky.

"It's fine, professor. Really," Remus said. "He's... it... it means... Well. It's just fine, is all."

It was then that Remus, now blushing a little, realized perhaps honesty wasn't the best way to go either.

"Fine, Mr. Lupin, to have _jam_ dumped into the back of ones trousers?" Minerva was getting tired of the words jam and trousers, to be frank. "Surely it was a situation you would've liked to have avoided?"

Sirius looked at him. It wasn't a pleading look really, just a look that demanded some sort of understanding. Even if it didn't really make much sense.

Remus smiled in an understanding at Sirius and then shrugged sheepishly up at his teacher, preparing to explain without really explaining, because how can he explain if he doesn't even know what it means himself?

"No, not really," Remus answered. "I mean, it's... a long story. Something, ah. Something happened. And this is thanks, in a way. We all know Sirius isn't normal."

"I suppose not," Minerva answered haughtily. "Well. This is beyond ridiculous, I'll tell you that much, and Mr. Black, you can expect my dry-cleaning bill in your post box."

"Yes, my darling," Sirius replied, a wide smile plastered on his face.

"Cheeky monkey," Minerva muttered (perhaps fondly, it's difficult to say), before turning on her heels and stalking away.

"Wait!" Remus called after her. "I... do you think I could have a note? I'll be late for maths. I've got to go change. Jam, you know. In my trousers. Please?"

Looking back, Minerva had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "I'm passing that way, Mr. Lupin; I'll inform Professor Slughorn myself. Will that suffice?"

"Yes. Thank you ever so much. Have a wonderful day," Remus answered, smiling. As she continued on her way, he turned to Sirius, tucking his hair behind his ears. "Down my trousers this time. It's quite uncomfortable you know."

Sirius shrugged. "S'just jam," he said, and then took off running in the direction he had came from without another word.


	4. December 25th, 2004

Sirius had had the lot of them up at dawn with far too much bouncing than was appropriate for five in the morning. James certainly hadn't appreciated having his chest squashed out of what Sirius was certain were Naughty Lily Dreams, and he seriously doubted that Remus liked to be half-smothered by pillows.

Such was the cost of opening presents, he supposed.

The morning passed by in a blur of wrapping paper, sweets and bacon. Before they knew what had happened, James' grandparents had arrived, and the house smelled like turkey and sweet potatoes, and the dining room table was laden down with more food (certainly) than was necessary to feed seven people.

Sirius and Remus were directed to one side of the table by Rachel, who took a seat across from them next to James and her mother-in-law. The two eldest Potter men headed the table on either end, grace was said, and the digging in began.

This was when Sirius starting sulking. This wasn't his family. This wasn't really his Christmas dinner, or his Christmas day. It was the Potters' and he was an intruder on their merriment and celebration. He had screwed things up. Everyone had been nice enough to keep it to themselves since they had returned from East Portlemouth, but Sirius, occasionally, would sit in corners and brood and feel sorry for himself.

Most of all, he wanted to apologize to Remus.

Remus was quite good at interacting with adults. He had, after all, spent most his childhood doing it. He employed his manners and listened carefully and spoke with respect and he had been around James and Sirius and their total lack of propriety for so long he hadn't really realized how different he acted with them until he was suddenly faced with grandparents.

It was a pleasant dinner, though, and Remus ate his brussel sprouts because he liked them and not because it was expected; all the while sneaking worried sort of looks in Sirius' direction. His happiness from this morning had faded and it was now quite obvious, to Remus at least, that something was wrong.

"Are you all right?" Remus whispered when the conversation drifted and he was released of his obligation to participate.

Sirius looked up, surprised, Remus having shook him out of his dull, depressing thoughts. He realized he hadn't touched a bit of his food, and that Mrs. Potter was probably internally combusting with worry. He shrugged, indifferently, and glanced about the table, sadly. He looked at Remus, who looked heart-wrenchingly anxious (as he always seemed to be), and Sirius felt his stomach plummet. Nothing could make Remus understand how much...

Cranberry sauce.

He tried not to change his expression too suddenly. He scanned the table again. No jam. It would be far too conspicuous to ask for anyhow, and given that the cranberry sauce would have to be passed to him by Remus, it was like... a twisted sort of permission really. Right? Well, no, but Sirius could pretend it was just to prove his point, if he even had one, but it was mostly lust, and remorse, and heartbreak, and he _really_ had to stop himself because his thoughts were becoming run on sentences.

"Remus," he said, "Um. Could you pass me the cranberry sauce?"

"You didn't answer my question," Remus said in response as he picked up the large dish filled with the red sauce. Remus personally disliked the taste of fruit mixed with meat and he never ate the stuff, but this was homemade by James' grandmother, so Remus had dutifully tried some.

Holding the dish out to Sirius, he tried to silently will Sirius to forget about his horrible family and think about Remus, about his friends, about the people that loved him. No one should be unhappy on Christmas, especially not someone as wonderful as Sirius.

"I'll be better," Sirius answered, taking the dish. "And thank you." As Remus smiled (if a little disbelieving; still, he didn't press it) and turned back to his plate, Sirius began to put his strange little plan into motion. Remus' pockets were too tight to be accessible, and the arse of his trousers was currently being sat on. The only option was the front, which he decided would startle Moony enough not to make a scene, and give him plenty of time to stick some cranberry sauce down there. And maybe "accidentally" cop a feel. Maybe.

He scooped a rather large helping of the cranberry sauce onto his plate, laid the dish on a clear spot on the table, and when he was sure nobody was watching, put his hand right on Remus' crotch.

Remus, who had been at that very moment taking a sip of the wine the Potters had offered him, inhaled sharply and only just managed to set his glass down before he started coughing. Coughing discretely, mind. He didn't want to draw any more attention than was necessary, considering Sirius' _hand_ was on his... Oh God.

There was no conceivable reason Remus could think of for... for Sirius... for him to... Oh, if he didn't move his hand soon, now, something very, very terrible was going to happen, and Remus would never, he'd never, ever be able to look Sirius in the eye ever again.

"Sirius," Remus hissed, drawing only a curious look from James, who was watching the whole situation with the air of someone annoyed at being stuffed into dress clothes and left out of something fun.

Sirius didn't look at him. Sirius, instead, nimbly undid Remus' top button, and slid the zipper down.

Remus was going to implode. He really, really was. James was now craning his neck to see what was going on, but thank _goodness_ he couldn't see over the table and no one else had yet noticed that **Sirius was undoing Remus' trousers at the dinner table**.

Remus clutched his cutlery tightly and threw a panicked look in Sirius' direction. Any second now, any second Remus would react exactly as any teenage boy would react to Sirius sticking his hand in the front of their trousers. It would be mortifying. It would ruin _everything_. After everything that had happened, Sirius didn't need to know Remus, well, wanted him. None of this made sense.

 _What are you doing? What's going on?_ "Sirius!"

Sirius still didn't reply. Years of practice made him the only boy on the planet (likely) who could properly multi-task, and he served up a great big spoon of cranberry sauce in one hand while the other (because he really, _really_ couldn't resist) _grabbed_ Remus. Quickly. Enough to satisfy. Enough to tide him over, to some degree. Remus wouldn't notice once part of Christmas dinner was down his pants.

Remus squeaked a little at the touch and his knife clattered to the table with the start of an unconscious, uncompleted instinct to fling his hand down and push Sirius away.

"Are you okay, Remus?" Rachel asked, pausing mid-conversation and looking at him from across the table.

"Fine!" Remus said, his voice a little too high-pitched. He cleared his throat and then, because he'd picked up a thing here or there after so many years of being friends with Sirius and James, "There was too much salt on that piece of turkey. It surprised me is all."

And with that, Remus reached for his wine glass, gulping some down, and Rachel smiled at him before turning back to her conversation with her mother-in-law.

Sirius refrained from grinning and, while Remus was busy with his wine, dropped the spoonful of cranberry sauce right into his open trousers.

Remus froze. He looked down at his open trousers, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion before realization suddenly dawned on him and he look at Sirius, half tempted to smile. “No jam at hand?” he asked.

Sirius just smiled, and started eating his dinner.

Remus sighed. "You don't have to do that anymore, you know. With the jam. Or cranberry sauce," Remus whispered, trying to inconspicuously do up his trousers around the sauce without getting any on the outside of his trousers. "I understand now."

Sirius frowned. No, no, Remus didn't really understand. It probably seemed a pattern, but each instance involving jam (or cranberry sauce) meant something completely different. But then again, he decided, putting a piece of turkey in his mouth, at the same time it meant exactly the same thing.

"No, you don't," Sirius said. "Not today."

"I love you, Sirius," Remus said awkwardly, trying to explain. Swallowing hard, he quickly added, still speaking quietly, "You're one of the best friends I've ever had. I get it. I mean, I..." Remus smiled in a pained sort of way and plunged onward. "I love you _too_ , is what I mean."

Sirius' face probably turned every shade of red known to mankind and he nearly sprayed the table with water from his nose, but somehow managed to maintain an awkward sort of beet red dignity. Looking at Remus in a combination of shock and confusion, Sirius wasn't sure what to say or do. "I. Uh. Thanks?"

"Um. No problem. I've got to go change before this soaks through," Remus said, and politely excused himself from the table without giving Sirius a chance to respond. He hoped that was what Sirius had meant by it all, or he'd feel really stupid later. Or now. He felt stupid now, too, hurrying from the room with a lap full of cranberry sauce.

"What was that about?" James mouthed across the table after watching Remus leave. He was dying to know what had happened, and it was written all over his face.

Sirius just shook his head. Sometimes, he decided, condiments in someone's trousers didn't say things quite right.


	5. July 25th, 2006

"We don't have to christen _every room_ on our first night here, Sirius," Remus panted, his bare back pressed against the cold plastic of the refrigerator.

They'd only just gotten dressed again and they were already half naked and making out like hormone driven teenagers. Which they were, really. But that was no reason to stay up all night...

Remus' thought process promptly trailed off into nothing as Sirius did something fantastic to his ear and any weak, half-formed, totally baseless arguments he might have had about their activities evaporated--along with his temporary insanity. Instead, Remus just gasped Sirius' name and arched his back to press himself into Sirius more firmly.

"We do," Sirius growled. "Isn't that what I said? Every room, several times?" His fingers hooked around Remus' unbuttoned trousers and tugged, sliding them tauntingly over his hipbones. Sirius turned them, pushing Remus onto the top of the kitchen table, starting at his belly button and kissing a path to his chin.

Then, unexpectedly, he got an idea. "Hold on," he said, and turned back to the fridge.

Remus was tempted to grab for Sirius and pull him back, now unwilling to let him go. As it was, he settled with a soft groan and an uncharacteristically plaintive, "Hurry up."

Finding what he was looking for, Sirius popped the top and laid the open jar on the little island before returning to Remus and pulling off what was left of his clothing. Then, without warning, he began pouring strawberry jam on Remus' stomach and chest.

"What- Sirius, what are you doing?" Remus asked, looking up at Sirius through heavy-lidded, lust-filled, confused eyes. The light, cool, damp feeling of Sirius tracing jam all over him was full of all sorts of different sensations, and he just tried to keep his breath even as he waited for an answer.

"Licking, or about to," Sirius answered, starting this process where he'd previously started the kissing: at Remus' bellybutton.

Mmmm. Strawberries and Remus.

Remus let himself fall back onto the table, back arching once more, but this time towards Sirius' mouth.

"What is it with you and preserves?" Remus finally managed to gasp, his hands digging into the side of the table and his legs wrapped around Sirius.

Sirius had made his way to the bits he'd circled around Remus' nipples, and paused, cocking his head like a confused puppy. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Trousers. Jam trousers. And that one time with the cranberry sauce," Remus managed, quite embarrassingly aware that he was slightly less than coherent. "You said I didn't get it."

Sirius considered this, before returning to the circle around Remus' left nipple and sucking it dry of all its jammy/Remusy goodness. "I. Well." Licking. Nipping. Sucking. "You'll think it's stupid."

"I don't think... Sirius, I really don't think I'll think _anything_ you say right now is stupid," Remus said, stumbling over his words, lifting one hand from the edge of the table to clutch at Sirius' shoulder. "Really."

Sirius moved to the other nipple and tasted the preserves there before saying, "When I was really young, like, three or so maybe," Sirius said, "my mother was actually nice on occasion. When I was well behaved, or did something well, she would give me a treat. Which would be jam. On bread." He took a moment to bite Remus' nipple a little roughly, and lick off some more jam. "When I got a little older, she started giving me jammy dodgers. Then, one day, she just stopped giving me anything. So I started doing it myself."

He wriggled free of Remus' pincher leg grip and climbed on top of the other boy, lapping at the jam in the middle of his chest. "I'd give the cookies to Regulus, James... his mum sometimes," he laughed. "But then I stopped. Until you came along. Then I did it for you, that first time, and it started over again. That day, after the first trip we made to Salcombe, meant 'I like you, you're right on,'" Sirius said, sucking on Remus' neck. "The second time, after you collapsed on us, was an 'I care about you a lot, please take care of yourself.'" Sirius kissed Remus' nose. "The third time, after you saved me from making friends with pavement, it was, 'Thank you, and I think I like you a different way.'" He kissed Remus' forehead. "With the cranberry sauce it was, 'I want you, and I'm sorry about that berk violinist.'" Sirius kissed Remus softly on the lips.

"Well, I guess I wasn't as off as I could've been," Remus murmured against Sirius' lips before deepening the kiss. He pulled away after a moment and smiled, leaning up to suck a bit of jam off Sirius' cheek. "Did you actually expect me to get it? I mean, I tried to figure it out, and that's where the response to your Christmas dinner escapades came from. That whole situation, by the way, was bloody terrifying. But you do realize that doesn't make sense to anyone in the world but you, don't you?"

There was a bit of jam still lingering on Remus' collarbone, and Sirius licked it off greedily. "Not too off. You scared me shitless when you told me you loved me though." He nuzzled the side of Remus' face, and nipped at his ear. They were sticky and sweaty and smelled like strawberries, and they were lying on the kitchen table Mrs. Potter had insisted on buying for them at the church sale.

It all seemed a bit ridiculous. If amazing.

"Don't you want to know what this jam instance means?" Sirius asked. "And you can't laugh either."

Bringing his other hand up to trace the lines of Sirius' jam-sticky face, Remus smiled headily up at him and nodded. "I won't laugh. I promise."

"'I love you, don't ever leave me,'" Sirius admitted.

Remus closed his eyes and nuzzled Sirius' neck, biting at the skin there, just hard enough to leave a mark. He couldn't even _think_ about what life without Sirius might be like, and he never wanted to let go. He didn't care how gooey they were from the jam; he could stay there forever with Sirius, on that hard wood table with the edge digging into the back of his thighs and remnants of strawberries stuck to a chest so full of love it was fit to burst.

"I love you too, and you know I won't. There's no one else in the world that's spent years putting such symbolic jam in my trousers, Sirius. There's no one in the world as amazing as you."


End file.
